


Covert

by OCWotchny



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: An Old Hunter, F/F, Pre-Death of Maria, This is not the in game hunter let it be clear, it takes place like in the first hunts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9220133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OCWotchny/pseuds/OCWotchny
Summary: A hunter is never alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i did this on a whim

The moon hangs lower than usual tonight.

You don’t care, of course; night after night of brutal, harsh combat against things that you only thought existed in storybooks as a child has toughened you to the prospect of the strange and dangerous. You’ve seen men tear out of their own flesh as hungry beasts, a larger moon is nothing to get your feathers ruffled over. 

It does, however, make the telling of time a little more difficult. It’s so large that its positioning is hard to accurately pinpoint, meaning you have no idea just how long you’ve been standing at the railing overlooking the great bridge. Typically, you’d wait for your hunting party here, gathering together and sharing a few solemn moments together before you headed out into the civilian sector of Yharnam to purge. Tonight, they seem to be running late, leaving you alone with nothing but your pistol and trusty church pick. No matter-- beasts don’t typically show up this far into the Cathedral Ward, so there was very little chance you’d have to use them. For the most part, you are at peace.

Or, that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself, anyways. The way you quickly reach for your weapon at the sound of approaching footsteps gives your buried anxiety away however, and you whip around to face whoever it is that had the nerve to sneak up on you on the night of the hunt, your hand already resting on the grip of your firearm.

The stranger is a woman; a beautiful woman, at that. Her hair is bright and silky, tucked neatly away underneath a dapper, pointed tricorn which sported a large feather plume from the side. For a moment, you are a little self-conscious over your own cap, and you reach up to touch it’s wide, circular brim on instinct. Her skin is pale, and seems to glow underneath the soft moonlight. It gives her an ethereal presence-- you have half a mind to reach out and touch her, just to see if you can.

The woman raises her hand to calm you when she sees your weapon, a soft smile gracing her lips. Under the small stupor you find yourself in at the sight of her, you think it odd that she isn’t at all threatened. When it’s clear that you are not going to shoot, she closes the distance and takes a spot next to you to look out over the city, staring up at the moon with a strange, almost knowing expression; as though the celestial body was an old friend she knew would return. You’re absolutely speechless.

She’s the first to break the silence, and you faintly register her accent as foreign, though for the life of you you cannot put a finger on where it’s from.

“The moon is large tonight, and the hunt is bound to be livelier than ever,” she says, taking a moment to pause and turn her head to you. “... Are you scared, hunter?”

It takes you a minute to respond, thinking just how to word what you’re feeling. With a sigh, you reach up and push your cap back so it rests on the nape of your neck, and pull your cowl down with your index finger so you can speak effectively.

“... Can’t be any worse than any other night, can it? ‘Doubt I’ll end up any more or less banged up than I ‘ave before.” Your own native accent is suddenly much more prevalent, and you feel almost out of place talking to her. If she minds, it doesn’t show; her mouth curves upwards for a sweet smile, and a chuckle rings from her throat at the reply.

“That is a good attitude to have. I should only wish that you keep on your toes, and do not make any mistakes out there. It would be a shame to see a hunter so duty-bound to get hurt.”

You raise your eyebrow and snort, turning to face her and crossing your arms. 

“I should say the same for you, m’lady-- I’m surprised you’re out here. Shouldn’t you be back at home, safe?”

The woman gets a look in her eyes and smirks, and you are suddenly very afraid. Her tone of voice is still light and friendly, though there’s a slight humor to it now-- as though there’s some joke that you aren’t aware of. 

“Oh, I think I’ll be alright,” she hums, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

It’s your turn to bark out a laugh now, grinning at the declaration.

“Is that so? And who‘re you s’posed to be?”

It’s only then that she turns to you and you can get a full look at her. The woman bows, and you nearly smack yourself at how stupid you were-- before she even says anything, you know exactly who she is from her appearance alone, and you question just how you could have let her identity slip. The iconic feathered cap, the cape that hung over one shoulder, the majestic opal brooch that glinted with the colors of the rainbow in the light…

“Why, I am Maria-- apprentice to Gherman, and hunter of the workshop. It is a pleasure, hunter. Who might you be?”

You manage to stutter out an introduction, and bow graciously in apology.

“I’m so sorry, my lady!” You manage, pressing your hand to your chest in the gesture and clutching at the fabric. “I did not recognize you in the light, Lady Maria-- what brings you to me?”

Your panicked discovery is cause for a bout of laughter on her part, and she has to bring her hand to cover her mouth after it goes on for longer than expected.

“Do not worry!” She rings, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe at the corners of her eyes. “I simply saw another hunter standing alone, and thought I should come over to wish good hunting.” When she’s finished, she looks you in the eyes and has a playful glint that makes you shudder. “I’m glad I did-- if I am to wish good tidings on anyone, I would hope it would be someone as beautiful as you.”

You are very, very thankful that the moon casts a shadow over your face from this angle.

“You’re too kind, m’lady, but I do not even compare to you. You are like…” It takes you a moment to think of something appropriate to compare her to. “... An angel, sent from the stars to grace us and lead us into battle.”

She hums and closes her eyes, the bright grin on her face receding into a faint, pleased smile.

“Now it is you who is being too generous,” she says. “You are easily my equal in terms of appearance, to be sure.” 

With that, she turns back to face the moon, leaving you silent and starstruck. Before you can gather your bearings and think up a reply, a large ring sounds from the clock tower behind you both as the Grand Cathedral lets Yharnam know the hour. Maria looks up at the face of the tower, and reaches up to straighten her cap before turning back to you. 

“It is time that I take my leave, good hunter,” she says, and you give a fond half-smile at the nickname. Maria takes a step forward, closing the distance, and reaches up to bring her gloved hand to your cheek. “Truly…” She begins, caressing your skin with her index finger. “I wish you luck on your hunt tonight. Keep safe.” She cups your face and brushes her thumb across your cheekbone, and you feel your knees nearly give out at the faint touch. With that, she steps back, letting her touch linger for just a moment before wistfully pulling back as she departs.

“May the good blood guide your way,” is the last thing she says before turning and officially leaving, cape billowing behind her with each step.

You hunt with a renewed vigor that night, slaying more beasts than you have on any other night, and when the sunrise finally peaks over the horizon to signal that the night is over and it is time to return home, you swear you catch the glint of a gemstone on a figure looking over a balcony some ways away watching you, topped with a triangular cap sporting a feather plume on the side.

**Author's Note:**

> if any of you reading this are just followers of mine and want to know when Jack/Morgan fics will update, know that im sorry im just lazy and cant fuckin type up anything for them without crying BUT THEY WILL UPDATE SOON


End file.
